Holmes and the Real Girl
by Violet Watson-Holmes
Summary: AU. Jane Watson, a doctor just returning home from the states searches aimlessly for a flatshare but who she finds will change her life. Her old friend from University, Mike Stamford, knows of a colleague who needs a flatmate. Not Elementary, only in the sense that Watson is a woman, totally Sherlock.


**Okay, so I finished this early (I was just too excited about it). So here is the first chapter, tell me what you guys think. XOXO Violet Watson-Holmes**

* * *

"Miss, can I get you something to drink?" the stewardess asks as she leans slightly over the empty seat.

The women catches the piece of her waist length blonde hair and places it gently behind her ear as she stares at the women with her bright blue eyes. "No, thank you". Her accent far different from that of the American stewardess that stands before her.

The flight attendant smiles gracefully, fixes her black pencil shirt as she realigns herself, and pushes the cart along the aisle.

The woman shifts her gaze out the window of the craft and plunges her sight into the grey puffy clouds as the pilot comes on across the intercom. "This is your captain speaking. We will be arriving in London shortly. The current weather in London is partly cloudy with the temperature being a cool 61o Fahrenheit and 16o Celsius. It should be a smooth flight from here on out". The voice cracks off and the woman continues to stare out the window aimlessly.

* * *

The woman exits the Chamberlain Hotel and intertwines into the rush and commotion that are the streets of London. As she strolls down the sidewalk she passes a newspaper stand, she dodges the on comers as she weaves her way to the stand to grab the Sunday paper from yesterday. She skims the classifieds for any ads for a flat share, she finds a few and carries it with her as she makes her way cautiously across the street to the park, Postman's Park.

She quickly finds a wooden bench with a man sitting on the right edge reading his paper, she takes the seat to his left and flips the pages of the paper to the classifieds. As she skims through the ads she finds them unappealing and groans. The man next to her quickly draws his attention to her, he is taken a back, "Jane, Jane Watson?"

Jane turns her head to the slightly pudgy man sitting next to her.

"Mike Stamford" he addresses himself.

She shows a sign of recognition. "Mike" she smiles and turns her body, "Are you still at Bart's then?"

"Teaching now, yeah. Bright young things like we used to be. God I hate them. What about you, just staying in town while you get yourself sorted?" he asks wonderingly.

She scoffs, "I can't afford London, not when I'm currently unemployed".

He draws back, "Ah, you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the Jane Watson I know".

"Yeah well once you're gone for such time you start missing home".

His brow creases, "Couldn't Addison help?"

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen" she jeers.

"I don't know. You could get a flat share or something" he advocates absently.

Again she hisses, "C'mon. Who'd want me for a flat mate?" Mike scrunches his face in confusion. "What?" she asks.

"Well you're the second person to say that to me today".

She slides closer, "Who's the first?"

* * *

A curly-dark haired man is striking a corpse with a riding crop, every motion hits the man's skin with massive force. The beating as steady as a drum until the small, shy looking woman who was once an on looker from behind a window creeps up behind him. "Bad day was it?"

"I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it" he says with quickening breath.

"Listen, I was wondering... maybe later, when you're finished-"

He interrupts her, "You're wearing lipstick. You weren't wearing lipstick before".

She pauses, then says "I uh, I refreshed it a bit" with a grin.

He furrows, "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee" She asks proudly.

"Black. Two sugars please. I'll be upstairs". He smirks as he exits.

Molly utters to herself, "Okay".

* * *

Mike enters the lab followed by Jane a few paces behind.

The dark haired man draws his eyes from the slide in his microscope to his new visitors.

"Bit different from my day" Jane whispers to herself.

"You have no idea" Mike states under his breath.

"Mike can I borrow your phone, there's no signal on mine?" The man asks nonchalantly.

Mike steps further, "What's wrong with the land line?"

"I prefer to text" he retorts hollowly.

Mike pats his pockets in search of his mobile, "Sorry, it's in my other coat".

The man draws in a breath with discontent and refers back to his microscope.

Jane fumbles her hand into her pocket and takes out her sleek black phone, "Use mine".

The man shifts his eyes up to the woman to his left, "Oh" he looks to Mike, "Thank you". He gracefully steps towards her.

Mike points to her, "Old friend of mine, Jane Watson".

Jane waits patiently with her hand grasping the phone in the air. The man seizes it and begins to type. "How old were they?"

"Sorry?" she asks inquisitively.

He meets her gaze, "The patient, how old were they?" he expands.

Mike looks between the two with a knowing look.

She pauses, "Eight. Sorry, how did you-"

Molly pushes open the door to the lab with a steaming cup of black coffee carefully being held in her hands.

"Ah, Molly! Coffee. Thank you." He returns the phone then grasps the cup and takes a sip, "What happened to the lipstick?"

She unnerves, "It wasn't working for me".

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now" he fumbles his fingers as he returns to his place before the microscope.

"Okay" she says again.

"How do you feel about the violin?" he asks as Molly leaves.

Jane looks to Molly. Mike gazes to her.

She focuses her attention on the mysterious man, "I'm sorry, what?"

"I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end, would that bother you?" he glances towards her, "Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other".

"You told him about me?" She refers to Mike.

Mike fiddles with the test tube, "Not a word".

"Then who said anything about flat mates?" She asks perplexed.

"I did, this morning. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flat mate for. Now here he is just out for lunch with an old friend who's recently returned from the states to get out of town after losing such a young patient, not a difficult leap" he says as he throws on his long wool coat and ties his blue scarf around his collar.

She tilts her head slightly in puzzlement, "How did you know about my patron?"

"Had my eye on a nice little place in central London, together we ought to afford it, we'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7 o'clock. Sorry, got to dash, think I left my riding crop in the mortuary" he saunters to the door.

Jane stands there for a moment, processing everything, "Is that it?"

"Is that what?" he says deeply.

"We've only just met and we're going to go look at a flat" she states worriedly.

They each share a glance with Mike who is casually leaning against the lab top.

He scrunches, "Problem?"

"We don't know a thing about each other. I don't know where we're meeting. I don't even know your name" She spats.

Sherlock begins, "I know you're a doctor, you've decided to return home due to an incident with a patient. I know you have a sister who's worried about you, but you don't go to her for help because you don't approve of her —possibly because she's an alcoholic, more likely because she recently walked out on her husband. That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" He exits and pops back in, "The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street" he winks. "Afternoon" he announces as he finally departs from the lab.


End file.
